


Broken Wings

by Nebelmeer



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV), The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - The Handmaid's Tale Fusion, Complicated Relationships, Dysfunctional Relationships, Dystopia, European setting, F/M, Pain, Post-Apocalypse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rebellion, References to The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood, Resistance, Torture, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-07-25 14:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16198964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebelmeer/pseuds/Nebelmeer
Summary: There are times when she simply wonders if all women are indeed prisoners in this world: the wives, the repenters, the servants, the whores. Each one of them used differently and abused differently. Each one of them chained, stuck in a role, condemned to remember.Missing freedom is even worse than living in a cage.Or Handmaid's Tale AU





	1. Charlotte

Sometimes Charlotte wonders what her mother would think of this new world.  
A part of her believes the woman’s early departure from this life must be seen as a blessing now, at least she is not forced to endure what her daughter is.

Reality is a **_living nightmare_**.  
Life is an **_endless punishment_**.

  
Death, on the contrary, seems so much more comforting, peaceful.

Charlotte is in Hell now. The extremists have taken control over the land that was once called Europe, and Charlotte remembers far too well all the events that lead to this catastrophe. Remembrance is painful, remembrance does not make the present go away, it just makes it worse.

She now can see so clearly what has gone wrong, now she is awake to the world. Life has never been easy for Charlotte Backson, and she used to care about superficial stuff, she used to care for her family, her mother, her sister, her father perhaps, but Charlotte never cared about politics, society, civil rights. She was naive and selfish. And so were most people, that’s how the modern apocalypse happened.

_She and everyone else **let it happen**._

When fascists won elections all over Europe, _they did not protest_ , _no-one fought the incremental mix of hate, nationalism and violence._

When the fanatics repealed the laws that allowed abortions, gay marriages and civil rights, ** _they did nothing_**. Those who did were arrested and disappeared quickly in the indifference of the most.

When the extremists _took over_ , when they _slaughtered_ the Union, the Parliament and the Council, _people agreed with them_ or simply _did not care enough to fight them_.

Charlotte included.

There was **_fear_** , fear of the **_immigrants_** , fear of the **_terrorists_** , fear of the **_unknown_** and when the ultra-conservative joined their forces, unifying Europe once again, this time under a totalitarian government, people simply accepted those terms. They seemed reasonable.

When Charlotte allows herself the luxury of thinking back about those days, she realises how _foolish_ they had been. _They were sleeping, incapable of realising what was really at stake._

**_Now is too late._ **

But now, she feels _suddenly awake to the world_. The suspension of the Constitution did not wake her, the new immigration policies didn’t either but the new world did. It happened slowly, so slowly that she barely noticed.

**_Nothing changes instantaneously._ **  
**_In a gradually heating bathtub, you'd be boiled to death before you knew it._ **

Sometimes Charlotte blames herself for her stupidity, her incapacity of understanding that the world was about to fall apart. Thinking long term has never come easily to her, she shold have known better but she didn't.

Nonetheless, Charlotte has always been good at one thing in particular, **_surviving_**. The woman's fairly certain she has her mother to thank for, before passing that woman had at least the decency to teach her children how to resist in bad situations. And let’s face it, the new world is the worse of the worse case scenarios Charlotte could ever imagine, so those specific skills can be quite useful.

Sometimes she wonders what her mother would say about that too, if she would _judge_ her, or _worse_ pity her. _The things we do to survive, they don’t define us_ , that was her motto. Now Charlotte has seen enough to agree, the things she had to do to, the things she’ll keep doing to survive this place, can’t be those that ultimately will define her, although they'll probably kill her soul.

_She hates herself already, her body does not even feel connected with her mind anymore._

_She lives every second of her existence in constant fear of dying, and yet, at the same time, she’s already dead. Her essence's rotting._

There should be hope in this new world, they are being told that if they behave correctly if they accept their punishment and satisfy their masters, there will be a chance to be redeemed.

It is a lie, it must be a lie and yet everyone tries to believe it, needs to believe it. **_Hope is scarce_** , and everyone needs to grab a piece of it, no matter how wrong it may seem.

Charlotte _feels_ she’s a prisoner, Charlotte _knows_ she’s a prisoner.  
There is a cruelty in the new world she had never tasted before.

Murder is no longer considered the worse among crimes, there is _no morality_ , there is no such thing as _justice_ or _fairness_ , some people are simply _believed_ to deserve such treatment. Some people are _believed_ to be inferior, she's among them.

Rape happens on a regular basis, it is not even illegal at this point. It is not even called rape.   
Rape.  
This word feels empty.

Violence reigns above all, she can now barely remember the time before, when laws used to regulate the environment surrounding her. Charlotte despised the rules back then, now she misses that world, she misses them with an acute intensity.

Now there is _one Law_ , _**the** Law,_ but she’s not allowed to know it, to read it, to understand it. She is just a woman, an inferior creature and a sinner.

She does not even belong to the society, not anymore.  
People like her are called the underlier, member of the underlying.

The whole purpose of her life now is to serve her master, understand her mistakes, give birth to a child and eventually repent or die.

The world has always been unfair but now it there are **_new levels of madness_**. The men that are in charge are self-centred cowards who are perpetrating a genocide and violating everything and everyone to achieve their agenda. They enjoy the power they can exercise over everyone else, but their joy is sadistic and dark. Each of them is horrible in its own way, she is sure of that now. **_There are not good guys among them._**

Many would disagree, many would say that her master is a _blessing_.

Many would be wrong. Her master might not be the cruellest sadist of his kind, _he’s not actually_ , but he believes himself to be kind and generous to her, which is even worse. He believes himself to be good, which is somehow hilarious.

He rapes her time and again, without even realising that in doing so he is hurting her, he’s killing her. He has shared her with his friends for a time, truly believing Charlotte was a willing participant, she would like to believe that too, but no matter how hard the woman tries to fit in this new world, the reality fast catches up with her.

**_She’s broken, she’s hurt, she’s bleeding._**  
Some wounds will never be healed, but now Charlotte has not the privilege to mourn for her lost life, now she needs to _survive_. Her old life is gone, and even if she miraculously managed to escape that Hell, would Charlotte ever be able to go back to the person she once was?

**_Normalcy seems an abstract concept at this point._**  
There is a new normal now, and as strange as it sounds she’s trying to adapt to it.

Her long hairs are falling down on her shoulders, also those are a symbol of her status. Underlier females are supposed to let their hairs grow indefinitely, only once they have repented, they are allowed to adjust them. It's is a way to shame her, one of many.

Charlotte is not sure she will ever get that chance to repent.  
To even be _allowed_ to start the repentance path a woman needs first to deliver a child and she never got pregnant, not even once in the previous two years.

_And not for lack of trying._

Theoretically, a master should have sex with an underlier only occasionally, usually only two, maximum three times per month, in those days in which the woman is more fertile. The masters' wives do not like the idea of a part-time concubine but they have no voice in the matter, they often leave the house in those days or simply avoid the room in which the act is consumed. **_It's not about them anyway_.**

**_It's about men and their entertainment._ **

When masters believe the girl in question needs to learn a lesson, or if they simply want her out of the ordinary, there is a **_House of Games_** , they call it this way. A _**brothel**_ might be a more appropriate term but Charlotte would definite it as a **_golden cage_**. When girls are brought there, they are _allowed_ to drink, _forced_ to drink most of the times, to take drugs, to lose inhibition. Whether they want it or not, it's not their choice. Then the masters do as they please.

In the first months under her latest master, he and his friends have fucked her regularly there, **_sharing_** her like a toy, **_treating_** her like an object and **_not like a person_**.

At this point the idea of enjoying sex ever again, of wanting to fuck and to be fucked, makes her feel sick. She tried to manipulate her master at first, but the man is dangerous, often insane, trying to manipulate him is risky and Charlotte is not sure whether she's ready to take that risk.

That man can be terrifying, he has almost killed her more than once, pressing his hands around her neck, choking her as he was fucking her. Charlotte believes he has almost killed his wife too, there is a terror in the woman's eyes that is difficult to misinterpret.

_There are times when she simply wonders if all women are indeed prisoners in this world_ : the wives, the repenters, the servants, the whores. Each one of them used differently and _abused differently_. Each one of them chained, stuck in a role, **_condemned to remember._**

Missing freedom is even worse than living in a cage.

It starts raining, softly.  
Not that it makes a great difference since she’s obliged to wear a red cloak all the time. She feels envious, the weather does not seem to care about the fall of modern Europe and democracy, it simply keeps going.

As if the past three years had never happened as if the world had not fallen apart. Being so ignorant is a blessing, she often wishes she could forget how life before was, it would be easier to accept her fate, to adapt to this new reality if she knew there were no other options.

Charlotte enters home eventually, making sure not to make a sound, she doesn’t want anyone’s attention on her, she wants to be invisible. The kitchen is so silent, solitary. In a way, it brings her peace.

Slowly she starts to reorder, the repenters assigned to the house will arrive soon to prepare dinner.

_**“Anne?”** _

Charlotte winces almost imperceptibly hearing that name.


	2. Anne

She’s **_not_** Charlotte ** _._ **

  
**_Not anymore._** Not to everyone else at least and definitively _not_ to Athos, the chauffeur of the household.

“ _Anne_?”

She _hates_ that name, it’s a constant reminder of her _lost freedom_ , of her _failures_ , of the _misery her life has become_ , of the _creature she has been forced to become_.

And it's just a name.

_Anne_

It is ridiculous, the fascists never even realise how _stupid_ they seem, how _utterly_ _ridiculous_ the rules they imposed are.

_Anne_

Anne is not her name, Anne is the name of her master’s wife.

_She does not deserve a name_ , why would she? Since the world collapsed, Charlotte is not her own person, she’s a _servant_ , _she doesn’t need a name_ , _she’s not worthy of being given her own name_. Domestic animals have a right to a name, the repenters can choose, either keeping their old names or picking new ones but _not her._

Not an underlier. She is inferior, her status is even lower than the one of animals. It's _disgusting_.

Athos is in between, the driver that has been with them for barely a month is complicated, and Charlotte is not sure what to think about him. The boy is **_awesome_** , she can’t deny that, _maybe_ in another life she would have even felt an attraction for him, but not in this one. In this new life she can barely keep herself together, in this new world _she trusts no-one, she has no friend_  and there is _no room for romantic feelings, nor for sexual desires._

Moreover, Charlotte, **_Anne_** , she’s **_Anne_** now, can’t fully understand Athos’s motivations or status. It’s evident the boy comes from some high-ranking family, for being a low ranked citizen he’s treated far too well from the master and his wife and yet there is a constant pain in his eyes, rage in his voice. His gaze is eloquent.

**_Emptiness_**.

Athos has lost someone or something he cared about, many people did in the previous years, God knows she has. That’s something she likes about him, the man is broken. _Just like her_. It's almost reassuring knowing that she's not alone in this Hell.

“Where were you?”

His voice echoes in the room, his tone is calm, but he seems worried. There is always some _ambiguity_ with him, he seems constantly torn between two sides, guilty in either case, always doubting his choices. There is torment in the way he acts, in the way he moves, in the way he behaves.

"Where were you?" he repeats, angrily this time, his face tense.

“Shopping” Anne, because **_she’s Anne now_** , says calmly with a small smirk appearing on her lips “ _Why_? Do you have any objection to that?”

Anne doesn’t know that, but Athos _admires her strength_ , _he might not show it_ , the whole point of this new world is to _pretend_ everything at any time, faking every possible emotion. _He does not show it, he cannot show it_ , but Athos sees a light in her, he knows the horror this girl, _this woman_ has been forced to endure and is amazed by the way she handles everything. Even now, he thinks, she’s looking at me with a smirk, challenging me, and the madness of the new world.

Athos smiles, it _seems wrong_ , and out of context _he knows it,_ but he smiles. He rarely does, but her witty eyes hit him somehow.

“Be careful, Anne” she knows what he means “You are _always_ watched.”

“Are you the one doing the dirty job, Athos? Are **_you_** the one **_watching_** me?”   
He’s not sure whether she’s provoking him, or if she’s trying to gather some information. **_She might be trying to get both._**  
“ _You know I wouldn’t._ ”  
“ _I don’t know anything about you_.”

She has a point, they _don’t_ know each other, they live under the same roof and chat occasionally, but it _doesn’t_ feel real. _Nothing in this new world seem real._

“You never ask me if there are signs” she whispers “You’re probably _the only one_ in this house who does not seem interested in that”

_Athos knows she’s right._

Constance, the repenter who comes to the house is always asking if there might be some symptoms. _The woman does not mean to hurt, she’s just playing her part._ He knows it, he believes Anne knows it as well but reading that mind is almost impossible.

The other Anne, _the wife_ , is barely present, so they both do not consider her. That woman avoids the whole household as much as she manages to. Athos feels sorry for her, although he believes her husband’s genuinely attracted to her, he also knows the man is not reciprocated. Not that the other Anne could be _blamed_  for avoiding her husband's attention, _the master is insane_ , _everyone knows it_. He feels sorry for the woman, she seems, she is, _disgusted_ by _everything_ :  _her husband, her position, her money, her status_. She does not exercise any of the power that she theoretically holds, **_she does not involve in anything_**. The woman seems _frozen, incapable of moving in one direction or in the other._ Maybe a child would help her, but the requisites to obtain a baby are infinite, and Athos is not sure whether the couple he’s serving could be good candidates. Even if Anne actually managed to get pregnant, they likely wouldn’t be the ones raising the child, so she does not care, why should she care if her husband got his slave pregnant? Either way, the child wouldn't be hers.

The master, on the other hand, would be rewarded, probably promoted for his service to the country. Thanked for being capable of impregnating a fertile woman and creating a new life, _helping an underlier to start her redemption._

Athos, on the contrary, _never seems eager to see her womb swollen._   
_Anne wonders if it is a way to express his moral superiority, or if the man believes this attitude is a way of showing real affection and concern._

**_It is not._ **

Anne _doesn’t want_ a baby, she _never_ wanted a baby, but she _needs_ one to survive the madness of the new world. Anne needs one or she will be killed. Her time is almost over, and she knows it. She’s been in three different families and not even once there has been hints she might be with child, doctors have visited her confirming she’s fully capable of carrying to terms a baby and yet she’s not conceived so far.

_**It's terrifying.** _

“ ** _I suppose_** …” Anne says hesitantly “ ** _You don’t want to think about it_**.”  
“ ** _I don’t_.** ”

She nods, Anne knows she’s not supposed to be at angry at him, _it’s not his fault_ and yet she suddenly feels _furious_. His way of dealing with the modern apocalypse irritates her, Anne sees how disgusted he is, she can feel how he grunts, how sympathetic he looks, and yet he never did anything to change the situation. Neither did she, so she should understand.

**_She doesn’t._ **

Anne has never asked directly but it’s clear he feels protected, _he knows he’s untouchable_. Probably Athos is just a rebel boy raised in a high profile family, sent to this household to be punished for a short amount of time before being sent back to society.

_He knows pain, it’s clear, but he knows nothing about being an inferior woman in this new world._

“Does it help? Ignoring reality?” she’s talking too openly, Constance could arrive at any time and could report them, the Master or his wife could both come in and report them, but Anne feels a connection with that strange man, and _Charlotte_ , _Anne_ , whatever, didn’t _connect_ with anyone in years.

There are others like her, _obviously_ , and other people inside the house too, but _everyone is terrified of expressing a true emotion, there are just little talks, threats, some useless propaganda, that’s all._

_Athos is different_ , although he’s not very much talkative, he never pretends anything, that’s what she likes the most about him. She sees a fire in him and recognises it as the one that once burned inside her, too.

_It's reassuring somehow._  
  
“We both know I don’t ignore reality” his voice is once again tense “ _But I want you to survive this Hell_.”  
“ ** _Why_**?” Anne’s amazement is the purest reaction in ages, even rationalising to the essence _she cannot fully comprehend **why**_ Athos should be so worried about her fate “ _You know why._ ”

_She doesn’t. Not really._

Surely they enjoy each other company’s to some extent but in this new world a person like her is easy to substitute, after all, despite all the raising propaganda, there is no fertility crisis. The whole point of this system that forces sexual interactions with a master and the consequent delivery of a child is purely to break these women. Once they have given birth, they are instantaneity separate from the newborn and forced to start the repentance path. It’s a cruel logic, she can’t even imagine what impact that could have on her, but Anne imagines any woman forcedly separated from her child after months, if not years of abuse is easier to manipulate. Probably they are threatened, too, she’s not sure.

**_These days she’s never totally sure about what anything._ **

_Knowledge is a powerful weapon_ , one of the first things that the new Regime applied was to _destroy it._

Anne does not know where she’s now, there are no signages anymore, there are no newspapers, no radios, no Internet. It feels as if they have gone back in time, with even fewer rights than those that were given in the middle age.

_Sometimes Anne wonders if there is still a war going on_.

She’s not sure if all Europe is under their control, _maybe is not._ Maybe there are still countries that would grant her the status of refugee, maybe indulging on such a thought is naive since she’s not even sure in which direction she should run. _There is no knowledge anymore_.

“You should go”

He’s right, of course, standing there, staring at Athos, is no use for neither of them but in a way, it feels _comforting_. It is a small relief in the mystery she’s forced to live in now, knowing that he's there. _Anne is not sure what that means_.

“We all should”

Athos rolls his eyes, Anne’s _boldness_ is something he _admires_ , and _fears_ at the same time. Sometimes he is astonished that she did not get herself killed already, he fears she might in the future, he fears there will be no future at all.

“Anne…” it’s almost a plea, he’s begging her, softly and yet firmly “Don’t do anything stupid, _don’t provoke them_ ”

“And what about you?” her voice is tense “ _Are you one of them, Athos_?”

She has questioned his loyalties and his positions time and again, but to understand what’s going on in his mind seems almost impossible.

Anne knows he feels protective towards her, but she’s not sure what his intentions are.

_She’s not a fool._

Charlotte has never been so and Anne knows how much this young awesome man must crave for a woman’s touch. _He’s a chauffeur, a repenter, he’s not allowed to fuck, he’s not allowed to make friends, to care or desire. He's almost a priest._

And yet a part of her keeps wondering if he fantasies about her if his interest in her is because of that. Anne wonders if he touches himself at night, when’s he’s all alone in his big bed, imagining her down on him. Probably he does, he’s human after all, and this new world does not give much space to personal satisfaction, not for people like them at least. Anne wonders if that would bother her if the idea that Athos might want to fuck her would bother her, _it does not._

They need to do whatever they need to do to survive and if Athos needs that why would she care? It’s just a fantasy, after all, he would never act on it, and neither would she.

He blinks, annoyed “ _Stop it_ ” and she nods leaving him alone.


	3. Slave

The master used to whore her out at first.

It was in his **_right_** , _obviously_ , and he and his friends seemed to _enjoy_ it quite a bit. Anne, on the contrary **_never had a choice_** , a **_chance_** to say, or to say yes.

Anne feelings were **_never_** relevant. She **_never_** mattered to any of them.

She tried to manipulate her Master at the beginning, she still tries to sometimes, if necessary, but at this point, Anne is sure that the best way to survive this chaos is to treat it like a job, an _unpleasant_ job, to be gotten through as fast as possible.

Kissing is not forbidden, but the master avoids them most of the time, he prefers oral sex, which makes it _bearable_. Anne is _grateful_ for that, it could be so much worse if she had to pretend to care for him. But she doesn't have to, they rarely kiss, and this makes the whole act easier somehow.

_In this way one detaches oneself, one describes_.

It’s not about love, nor desire, it’s nothing more than an act, an act of copulation, fertilisation perhaps. No more to you than a bee is to a flower. You steel yourself. You pretend not to be present, not in the flesh. You leave your body, and you wait for your rapist to be over. Her master never lasts long anyway, he excites himself just by looking at her, even when she’s not naked. Anne imagines he likes this idea of owning her, his personal sex-slave. The woman he's married to despises him after all, but he can at least rely on this other woman who can’t deny him anything.

He likes to _touch_ her, to _rip_ her clothes and to _push_ inside her, to _spill_ inside her, to _force_ her mouth on his member.

He also likes violence.

What excites that man the most is chocking her, pulling his hands around her neck. She’s afraid when he does so when she sees his hands wrapping around her throat, she panics, and he likes that. _She can feel it._ They both know it, Anne tries to keep calm, but sometimes she feels the urge to save herself, she struggles against him, kicking out helplessly, as he laughs. The master is disgusting, he actually enjoys the pain he forces her to endure. The master knows her lungs burn, he knows she’s afraid of dying, he knows she passes out for some seconds hoping to wake up after it is all over. He does not allow it. The more he trains, the more he is capable of controlling it. _She hates it._

Anne is a prisoner, a slave. Her one consolation is that there are only 2-3 acts per months at this point since the master has decided to not whore her out to his friends.

_It's a relief_.

Not to talk about the fact that he is very busy with his position in the government these days, he’s always nervous, working late and screaming on the phone, so he does not care much about her, she's not important. Anne knows _something is happening_ , probably there must be some huge political crisis that is worrying him. Not that she’s supposed to know anything about it. In this new world _information is rare,_ it might sound ridiculous, but Anne is not even sure what her exact location is, let alone understanding the geopolitical situation.

She’s not supposed to read, either, and everyone, herself included, should be smiling all time, showing her willingness to accept gladly their fate, whatever it might be. She is supposed to look loyal to the new Regime, no matter what they do to her. She waits. She tries to distract herself, she looks at the ceilings.

_She hates them. She hates everything in that fucking house._

The master’s hands are leaving bruises on her pulses as his hips thrust into hers, again and again, and again until he comes, his breath on her neck. It’s disgusting, but she has no choice. She lets him do whatever he needs to do, she obeys whatever order he gives.

She’s a breeding animal, she’s forced onto her back, she’s forced to wait until it’s over. She has no power in this game, this act is brutal, and she cannot decide anything. When the master is not looking at her, she closes her eyes. It makes her feel better, it makes it easier to endure all that.

Anne knows her master wants to pretend he’s not raping her, on the contrary, he believes he’s helping her. If she has a child, her life will be spared, she’ll start her repent path and will eventually join the society. He feels the hero of this story as if she’s been begging to be assaulted as if that was her choice, her demand.

Most of the times she doesn’t kick, she doesn’t scream, she doesn’t cry, she does not say no. She does not refuse him, and therefore he believes she wants it too as if refusing him was even an option. He pretends he’s helping this poor lost sheep, this sinner, he pretends he’s the good guy.

This time is not different, before the intercourse he asks her about the weather. Little talks, buying time for both of them, to prepare for what’s to come.

He pushes his clothes aside after that and starts to masturbate in front of her, pumping himself to hardness. Anne assumes that man is so self-centric to believe this move to be somehow sexy, **_it’s not_** , it’s **_creepy_**. When he thrusts himself inside her, she’s not ready, and it hurts. Of course, it does not matter if she’s not ready, it does not matter if the pain is so burning that tears are falling on her cheek.

_She’s not a person, not yet, she’s been stripped of personhood, her needs, her feelings, simply do not matter._

She doesn’t flinch as he’s fucking her, hoping to leave the room as soon as possible.

Anne stares at the ceiling, she’s _envious_ of objects, she fears there will never be peace for her and the prospect of not being human looks attractive.

She can feel his climax building, and that is a relief, it will be all over soon.  
She’s right, not long after he spills inside her and after that simply moves away, pulling out of her and goes to his private bathroom.

“Leave” he hisses angrily, without even looking at her.

Anne can still feel him inside her, she wishes she could pretend it did not happen to her, _but it did._ And it will keep happening until her final days if she can’t deliver a child. But if she actually had a baby it could be even worse. _Yes, her life could begin, but what life?_ She sees how the master’s wife’s looks. She might have some additional freedom, but _she’s not happy_ , _she’s not independent._ Charlotte believes such life is not worth living, but Anne keeps telling her that there is no other option. Women in their positions must make the best of their circumstances.

She put her dresses back on and leaves in a hurry, her heart beating fast inside her chest. A part of her wants to fall on her knees and cry out all that bitterness, but Anne knows she needs to calm down if she wants to survive. She _needs_ to be _strong_ , _fearless_ , to prevent them from seeing her weakness, but the only thing her heart desires is to disappear until all of this will be over.

She hides in her room at first, letting her tears out and letting them dry.  
She feels _suffocated_ , _trapped_ in a hopeless life.

After the world collapsed, she tried to escape and was caught and arrested. She spent twenty days in a cell, and back then _the idea of ever feeling fresh air again was everything_. Now she feels that dying executed might have been a better option, the life she’s living now is the worse punishment she could have ever thought about.

Anne wishes to believe in God, to find assurance in his endless love.  
Anne does not believe in God, she never did, and this world is the final proof she needed. God does not exist. God never existed.

_No God would allow this madness._

Before she knows it her feet led her outside of her room and outside the house. Taking fresh air has to be a relief to her condition, _it has to be so._

_She closes her eyes and lets her bare feet sink into the grass._ The wind blows in her direction and for the first time in ages she allows herself to pretend the apocalypse did not happen, to pretend she’s still free, to pretend she’s ok. In truth, she’s far from being ok. The solitude of that condition begins to weight on her, she’s become cold, her feelings frozen. Every ounce of her body hurts, fear and rage taking over her.

She turns her head slowly, looking for Athos’s dependence.   
She is taken by surprise because in doing so she hopes to meet his eyes.

It’s **_foolish_**. Obviously, it’s too dark to look into someone’s eyes, and yet her irrational side wishes to talk to him. He’s just a boy, she should not want to see him _this badly._  But she does.

“ _What are you doing here?_ ”

She shivers, turning, taking a big breath. He actually is _awesome_ , denying such an evident fact would be _immature_ of her.

“Is that our thing now, Athos?” she whispers with a smirk “I try to find some solitude on my own and you _disturb me_?”

She looks at him once again, Anne has to admit to herself that _she's memorised every detail of that face_. It’s **_embarrassing_**.

_Potentially_ he could be a threat. _Theoretically_ , he’s in a superior position, and she should not trust him. Trust never came easily to her anywayand in this new world is even worse. And yet there is something in him that makes her want to smile. In a way she feels herself again in his company, she feels some form of power.

_She feels, he made her feel again._

“Can’t you sleep?” his voice is feeble. They both know that they are breaking some rules but neither seems to care.  _Athos is right. She cannot sleep._

“No” she murmurs. That’s all. _She’s supposed to say more_ , she knows it, he’s waiting for her to say more, but _she can’t think of anything._

“Me neither” he replies, lowering his eyes.

Anne blinks at him. There is anger in his eyes and for a moment Anne wonders if it’s directed at her. After some seconds she realises it is for her, for what she’s forced to endure. She hopes he is intelligent enough to drop this subject, to realise _she does not need to stay there discussing the details of her personal Hell._ She's not that fortunate.

_“ **I hate what he does to you** ”_

Anne knows that she should be flattered, his _intentions_ are _good_ , he wants to be _kind_ but that sense of pity towards her makes her rage emerge “ ** _You_** … ** _you have no right to that_** ” she wants to scream but that would expose them both “ ** _I’m not your pity case, just don’t_** ” it’s not his experience, _he has no right of hating what happens to her_. He’s not even present. Something suddenly hits her then, she wonders if the man standing in front of her stays outside the door when she's with the master, listening to his moans and even hers sometimes. That must be confusing, she understands it, but there are times she comes as well. _It does not mean she enjoys it, because she never does, but sometimes her body reacts to some stimulus and she comes_. ** _She hates herself for it_**. She hates herself for many things and this is the worse. _There are times her body betrays her and she feels so guilty she can barely breathe._

_Anne is angry at Athos, and fears he might want some sort of justification. She’s not in the mood, she sees the sympathy in him and she hates it._

“What bothers you the most?” Anne hisses “What happens behind those doors or that the master is the one exercising his power over me and not you?”

A new expression appears on his face. **_Horror_**.

He’s _shocked_ as if even assuming that was an _outrage_.  
He’s _offended_ , she’s the one who has been stripped of all her _rights_ , her _freedom_ , her _dignity_. She’s the one reduced to an object, and still, he has the nerve to be _offended_ if she questions his _morality_.

“ _I’m sorry_ ” his voice trembles “ _Tell me what can I do to help you_.”

Anne then starts laughing, nervously and silently.

**_Help_**.

As if there was anything he could actually do to help her.

“I want a cigarette” the voice escapes her mouth before Anne can actually control it “I know it’s **_forbidden_** , I know it’s…” there is hesitation “I need to feel **_normal_** again, even if it’s just for a couple of minutes.”

He nods silently, landing a packet to her.  
Anne smiles nervously, and they stay there, silently, looking at the sky to avoid each other's eyes.

The moon is beautiful, and it’s something the extremists did not change, it feels _reassuring,_ the world is mad, but Anne knows she can’t lose hope yet.

If the moon is the same, if the starts are the same, there must be a place where also the society is the same. Somewhere where the old Europe still exists. England perhaps. Anne does not know yet, but she will find out.

Her master was nervous after all, _maybe there is hope_ , _maybe there is a way out of this_ , _maybe people are fighting it_.

She knows she has to find out, but for now standing there in the dark with Athos seems enough.

 


	4. Oliver

One of the few things that gives comfort to Anne is her daily walking to the mall. Athos _knows that by now_ , he has spent hours _observing_ every tiny detail of her face, every _curve_ of her body, every _shadow_ in her eyes. Her daily walking always makes her feel better, _he knows that_. Usually, Anne feels lighter after, her movements show a strange kind of relief.

But that’s not always the case, there are times she returns shaken.

He _knows_ , or better he _guesses_ what happens those times.

They do not talk about it, but everyone in the house is well aware of the fact that brutal executions happen almost daily. If someone tries to leave, if someone dares to oppose the Regime, if someone even thinks about helping those under him, then that person’s fate is sealed.

The word used is a gentle one.

_Gone._

Which means **_dead_ , _disappeared_ , _murdered_ , _captured_ , _imprisoned._**

It means nothing and everything. It's _terrifying_.

Women like Anne are often forced to watch official and brutal executions, they are even encouraged to participate. To be an active member of _public murders._

People get used to violence quite fast, _too_ fast perhaps, but this does not mean that they do that without any side effects. And he has seen how being forced to face _pain_ and _terror_ and _death_ every moment of the day had affected her. There are moments Anne seems simply _gone_ , replaced by a _cold_ version of her, a _new_ version of her.

“Going somewhere?” he does not mean to sound _harsh_ , but his tone leaves the woman with absolutely no doubt.  
“Getting some food,” Anne snaps passing past him, her eyes fixed on something ahead both of them. She moves, then something almost _forces_ her to turn back “Is that allowed, driver?”  
“Fine.” Athos gives her a look full of doubts, of questions. She can see him trying to _deduce_ what the reasons of her sudden appetite might be. Both the idea of her being pregnant, or the one of her being emotionally damaged and in seek of comfort in food, does not appeal him. **_As if her physical or psychological distress could be in any way his business_.**

“Are you going to inquire a defenceless woman now, Athos? An inferior? Should I be afraid?”  
“Aren’t you yet?”   
“I trust no-one, that’s true but…” she bites her lips, there is something about this guy that makes her _mad_ and _excited_ at the same time. It's almost _frustrating_ “My instinct tells me you are not as… _cynical_ as you want to appear. _There is something about you, something I can't quite get_...”  
“What makes you say that?”

They stay still for some seconds, studying each other.  
There is a _game_ going on between them, but the _terms_ of such are unclear.

“Annie, this is…”  
“ ** _Annie_**?" her voice cracks repeating that name, an odd mixture of **_amusement_** and **_pain_** "You do realise _that’s not even my real name_ , don’t you?”  
“I… I’m sorry.”  
“ _I bet you are_.”

Once again there is an ocean between them, and in a moment he _knows_ , just _knows_ , she needs him to give her something, **_anything_**.

“Athos…" he whispers " _It’s not my name either_.”  
“We are _not_ the same”  
“I _never_ said that, I would never…” he snorts, Anne has this **_skill_** of **_twisting_** everything he says, of always looking for the dark side inside of everyone. He hates it, it makes her feel **_impotent_** and **_frustrated_** , but in a way, he knows _she wants him to prove her wrong_ “I’m Oliver.”  
“ _Oliver_?” she smiles, suppressing a laugh “This does not suit you at all.”  
“What would suit me, then? Uhm?”

It feels normal, in a completely wrong way chatting feels normal to both of them. It feels like fresh air.

Obviously in the new world normality has no place.

" _What's going on here_?" Constance's voice interrupts them abruptly.  
Of course, the repenter had to interrupt just now, Anne thinks moving away reluctantly, reaching the garden. Now that Constance has come, there is no chance to steal some food, perfect timing as always. The other woman watches Anne as she leaves, a silent hostility in her eyes. 

“You’re _not_ a fool, Athos” Constance’s voice is intimidating. After some seconds of awkward silence, Athos gives a nod, retreating from her accusatory gaze, his focus merely on the car in front of him. Well, maybe not exclusively.   
"Athos...Whatever this is..." the woman's eyes are fixed on him, and Athos can sense them, even without actually seeing her. On the contrary, all he can see are Anne's attempts not to look in his direction " _Stop it. Now_."  
" _Athos_!"

The anger in Constance's voice forces him to turn and he does so slowly, his eyes abandoning the figure of Anne unwillingly, his body separating from the hood of the family car with almost anxiety. Athos breaths, hesitates, unwilling to have such a conversation with his longtime friend. He _cares_ about Constance, he always had, since they were children growing up in the same neighbourhood, even though in two opposite families, but he has also always _hated_ the way that woman could read into everyone’s souls, including his. As a child she was always thoughtful, kind, a big sister to all of her friends, the voice of conscience to everyone. But those early days _are long gone_ , they seem stuck in a parallel universe, close enough to remember them, but impossible to touch.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
“ _Stay away from her_ ” her voice echoes, the sound of it is barely audible, but this is not the worse. What annoys Athos is her tone, threatening, but terrified at the same time “ _She does not belong to you_.”  
“She does not belong to him either.”  
“ _She does_ ,” her reply is firm, no sign of weakness “You may not like it, _but she does_.”

Athos forces himself to lower his eyes. He _hates_ that situation, _all of it._

He misjudged Anne at first. That's hardly surprising, it often happens to him, it’s a _peculiar_ feature of his character, and it’s _always_ been so. Athos was born the first son in an aristocratic family, he has spent the majority of his life been surrounded by people who only wanted his _money_ or his family _influential_.

He has always been suspicious of others, afraid of _bonding_ and real _friendships_ , let alone _relationships_.

Not that his… _connection_ with Anne could ever be real. There is nothing real in this world, _every word, every smile, every breath is calculated_ , _**survival** is the essence of life now_.

**_Everything is so sophistically packed_**.

He _knows_ , rationally he _knows_ , that everyone lies, believing otherwise is naive, but he's also _weak_. No matter how hard he tries to fight hope, it always finds a way back into his mind. It's almost embarrassing.

“We used to be better than this” his voice shakes “We used to have moral grounds, to believe in… things such as _Justice_.”  
“Justice is an empty word now.”  
“ _But it wasn’t”_

Athos grumbles involuntarily. The memories of his time as defence attorney invading his mind, his heart, his soul, taking deep roots inside of him. There was a time he was young, fearless and yes also stupid and impulsive. The ideals, the rights he used to hold as undeniable were stripped in the course of a few years, not even a decade and they had been taken away by the stroke of a pen and the recoil of guns. **_Before he knew it, before anyone knew it, the old life and the old world were gone._**

“Athos…” Constance’s looks at him with sudden fear interrupting his flow of thoughts “ _Don’t talk like that_. Even here, even with me.”

They both fall silent after that. _Silence is maybe the strongest force in this new world, terror makes silence seems particularly attractive in comparison._

“She’s brave” hesitates some further seconds “ _She will get herself killed_.”  
“Maybe that’s what she wants.”

  
_Athos can't reply to that._  He wishes this was easier, Athos wishes he could _feel less_ , he wishes Anne would _impact him less_ , he wishes the new world would be _easier to accept_ , he wishes he could forget everything of his past life, everything of the life he could have had.

It was _slow_. At first, they could barely notice it, there were some European directives that force judges and public prosecutors to retire earlier. _It didn’t seem important._

**_It was_ **

_Slowly_ but _systematically_ every judge who had dared to criticise the new government was gone, forced into the private life or worse.

Athos could still remember the moment his father’s longtime friend, the Judge O’Neil of the European Court of Human Rights, was killed in a presumed robbery. It was a nightmare, the dissimulated panic everyone felt in the Judge’s office. _The whole story was false, his murder had been covered up, and yet no one had the courage to talk about it openly._

_Not even him._

He was still a law student, far from being able to understand every little detail of the complicated system beyond what they called “Justice system”, and yet after that murder even he understood that _the old days were slipping away_.

The so-called “Establishment” was weakened and with it any form of freedom.

**_The freedom was ending with thousands of applause._ **


	5. Unknown

She wakes up every morning at 6, she was **_not_** a morning person before, she remembers how annoyed she was when someone woke her up before time but **_now she has no choice._ ** No, **_now the faculty of having a choice has been taken from her_** , that’s more accurate. Charlotte Backson used to consider herself a free spirit, but now that woman is _gone_ and _won’t ever come back_. _She could never come back, no matter what._ **_Pain has changed her_**. Physically she might resemble the person she once was: Charlotte was beautiful and so is this new version of her, this _Anne_. She is _slim_ , she’s _pale_ , she has very _delicate features_ , her skin is _smooth_ and _bright._  Anne is beautiful, Anne knows she’s beautiful, she knows she is perceived so.

But this is just _her body_ , her soul, on the contrary, is damaged. **_Pain marks you_** , but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind. She doesn’t _look_ broken, but she _is_.

_“Charlie”_

_“Flea”_

“I did it, the letters you gave me” Flea hesitates, checks that no one is listening. No one is, they are underliers, _they are nothing_ , what they say it’s just _not relevant_. Most of the times at least. “Charlie, they will be out. Ninon has them.” the woman’s whispers are barely audible, her words are _treason_ and _treason is death_ “She has power now, she a master’s wife”

The woman who used to be Charlotte, the one that’s now called Anne pushes her companion into an alley “Be careful, Flea”

They both stay silent for a while, walking side by side, eyes down. They have to show **_meekness_** , this is what the government requires. In exchange, they have a roof over their head and food in their stomach. And well yes, also disgusting men that regularly abuse them, but they have to concentrate on the positive aspects of their captivity, Anne knows that.

Truly amazing isn’t it? What people can get used to, as long as there are a few compensations.

She thinks back about the past most than she should. There was a time, not too long before, that freedom was taken away, abortions were made illegal, gay rights were stripped away but they were safe, _security was offered in exchange for freedom the common people agreed_. Unwanted were eliminated and they all felt safe. How foolish this thought sounds now. The government always says it is better now. _Better never means better for everyone, this is naive. Better always means worse, for some_.

In this case Anne knows she’s not on the right side. Not that she had never had the idea she was supposed to be on a right side. Now she knows what right means to her and it’s not just about survival.Survival is not what she’s after now, _it’s not what drives her_.

**_She’s been humiliated, betrayed, abused._ **

Her name has been taken from her, as well as her family, her life and her dignity.

Survival is not enough, what her heart desires is one thing. _**Revenge**_.

**_Revenge and power._** When power is scarce, even a little of it is tempting and she feels the urge _to grab it, to drown in it, to be in control._

“Flea…” her voice trembles. The late Charlotte should not indulge on that thoughts, _she knows_ _it_ , but can’t help but letting some words out. **_It’s unfair._**

Flea _never had_ a family, but she’s risking her life and the small freedoms she enjoys now to find out something about Charlotte’s relatives. **_It’s wrong_**. It feels wrong, but this girl she barely knows it’s _her only way to get to her sister._ Flea’s master works in the Center of Control, an institute where all the information about the underliers former names and lives are registered. It’s her only way to know if her sister might still be alive.

The girl shakes her head energetically, a sincere apology in her eyes "I wouldn't keep that from you"

No more words are said and both returns to their household and their living nightmares.

Once Anne enters her room the tiredness hits her suddenly, but it's only when she lies on the bed that something upsets her. She's not entitled to personal objects, _not anymore,_ but still, she has achoker that belonged to her past life, to her family, to her old self. There are times she holds it tight, as an anchor that helps her staying sane. There are also times she wishes to have gotten rid of it and of all the memories attracted to it. 

**_Now she wishes she had._ **

With horror, she realises the choker is under her pillow. _Where it was not supposed to be_. Someone has **_searched_** her room. Someone might even **_know_** she's part of the Resistance. _If they already know, she's already dead._

“You should go to the master’s wife” Athos's voice is for the first time sounds terrifying. It is _**terrifying**_. But she needs to react quickly, to think about her options, to develop a quick plan. She needs to keep going, to act as if nothing happened. Now she has no clue who knows what and in which way the informations about her will be used. The saftest option is to pretend nothing happened.

“The master’s wife?” her reply is genuinely surprised _. **It does not make any sense**_. The other Anne, the master’s wife’s has barely talked to anyone _in_ _months_ and now she’s even sending for her. Directly and specifically. They must know something, she must have done some mistakes, there must be...

“If you’ve done something…” Athos can’t finish the sentence, there are a million thing he could whisper to her now but _none of them seems fit_. He cannot offer help, _not a real one,_ he cannot protect her if she’s done something stupid, he cannot report her, that would not help at all. He finds **_no adequate option._**

“ ** _Don’t be absurd_** ”

She’s being cruel but this is the _reality_ , there is nothing he can do to help her, even if he’s _privileged_ , even if he’s _protected_. _And there is nothing she would like him to do_. In a way the Charlotte inside her wishes him to remain outside of anything she did, might have done, and would do. She wishes him safe and she has no idea why she cares so much about this boy. It goes against logic.

She cared before, she's never been in love but she cared.

_Her mother, sometimes her absent father, her half-sister, her best friend. They do not seem real now. They all look like a dream, distant, vanishing. And not real._

She cared about them all and they probably all dead by now. ** _All of them_**. _**All parts of her that have vanished**_. She might join her soon. If she was a religious person this though might even sound bittersweet, but she never believed in God, she's the child of a priest who does not believe in Good. It seems the begging of a bad joke, but it is reality.

" ** _Anne_** " Athos's voice cringes "I..."

Charlotte smiles looking at him, it happens in a blink and then her severe expression comes back. She does not know what this is, but in a way, _Athos entertains her_ , which is more she has had in a long time. But she can't think about _that_ now _._ The master’s wife wants to talk to her.

It can’t be about jealousy, the other Anne, the _real Anne_ disgusts her husband and tries to escape his attentions time and again, _everyone sees it_. So what can the loneliest woman she’s ever seen possibly what from her?

Maybe it’s just some new perverse game commanded by their master. But that sounds wrong too, he never tends to mix the madonna he sees in his wife with the whore he sees in his sex-slave. He knows very well the difference between the two of them, Anne doubt he would ever do to his precious wife what he does regularly to her, _so she sees no answer this time._

_She walks, trying to compose herself._ The only thing she needs now is to look anxious, showing weakness now might cost her more than she’s willing to admit. Anne reaches the door of her master’s wife. _She knows her only option is to show meekness to a woman she’s not sure she understands and that might order her death immediatly._

 

She breathes, she knocks, waiting for the **_unknown_**.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes ago I promised to myself I would never have written angst milathos again but the political and economic situation in my country is tense and this is what came out.
> 
> There is some clear evidence to the "Handmaid's Tale", but I decided to go for a loose adaptation, it's settled in a near future but it will go in a different direction.


End file.
